Happy Unbirthday
by CityDurl
Summary: A short character exploration. Some of Data's beliefs about himself are challenged after the events in Datalore, long before he discovers more of the truth about his origins in Brothers. One-shot.


Since he had been forced to transport his brother Lore into space, Data had had some ground to make up in his relationships with the Enterprise's crew. Lore's betrayal had made inroads into the bonds of trust Data had worked to forge, and had brought into relief Data's inherent differences from his humanoid colleagues. A change in programming, and Data might have been like Lore – sociopathic. Megalomaniacal. It had been surprising to Data to find out that Dr. Soong had deliberately programmed certain difficulties into his system. His overly formal speech patterns, his tendency not to use contractions, his trouble understanding humor, all were intended to handicap his innate perfection and inhibit the development of a superiority complex as deadly as Lore's.

Data had seen signs of the suspicious attitudes that had beset him on other assignments, but he had heretofore evaded on the Enterprise. The conversations that abruptly cut off when he entered a room. The lingering stares that said without words that the others knew he was a machine capable of anything, given the proper circumstances. The fearful glances that questioned if they'd beamed away the right android. The looks of accusation – someone identical to him had knocked Lt. Worf unconscious, fired on the CMO, and plotted to kill them all. He wondered if the fact that Lore had incapacitated Data made him more or less culpable in the eyes of the crew. On the one hand, it showed that Data's loyalty had never wavered, and he had not been in collusion with his brother. On the other, it showed Data to be the weaker of the two. The more trusting. The younger, submissive brother.

The erosion of trust was evident even in his closest friends. Though the visor hid Geordi's eyes, Data could still discern the searching look behind it. Geordi had admitted how chilled he'd been by Data's double. The admiration Lore had shown for the crystalline entity as it hung outside the ship like a cold, ravenous snowflake eager for their demolition . . . Geordi had assured Data that he'd get over it in time – they all would. But Data found the wariness in his best friend discouraging, especially since Geordi had never been anything but completely accepting of him before.

Tasha's natural suspicion had turned on full blast after the incident. She was already so guarded. Her eyes searching his face in fear made Data certain that the punishment had not been too severe for his brother. Lore could survive in the vacuum of space; of that, Data was certain. That his brother might drift forever, alone in the cold, black nothingness between the stars, was as wretched a fate as Data could imagine for any being. The only justification for it came whenever Data contemplated Lore's threats to Wesley – he'd looked as though the boy's suffering would have honestly brought him pleasure. Lore had clearly relished the fear that he'd engendered in Dr. Crusher and her son. Lore was capable of inflicting pain. Though Data's programming prohibited the same, he had to ask himself – what if his security redundancies failed one day, and someone saw fit to change that inhibition? Perhaps the new fear he detected in his friends was justified. Could he turn as monstrous as his brother?

Data began to make an overt effort to reassure the crew. Even though his Starfleet training emphasized projecting an image of authority, he threw that over in favor of reminding the crew that he was benevolent. He indulged his every curious whim, asking questions as they came to him, even the ones he knew would be construed as absurd. He asked about human habits and turns of phrase, asked after children and pets, inquired about hobbies, and otherwise ingratiated himself just short of the point of being annoying. He knew he risked earning a reputation as an eccentric, but becoming an object of derision or condescension was preferable to being one of fear.

Data hit on the magic solution by accident. In a meeting with the head of the hydroponics lab, the nervous glances of the hydroponicist alerted him that the story of Lore's treachery had reached every station on the ship. Data went immediately into his routine to deflect the worries of the science officer, and in the course of friendly questions, it came to light that it was the day before the officer's birthday, and he was planning to celebrate it with friends. The tension was completely defused as the scientist chatted about the surprise party plans he'd foiled. Afterwards, Data reasoned that the human was put at ease by talking about his birthday. Perhaps his logic was: surely a maniacal robot wouldn't ask about my birthday – he must be all right. Data tested his theory on others. It held up – an innocent inquiry about a birth date in the natural course of conversation tended to reassure humans. It was personal, but not overmuch. It was a friendly question. It reminded Data of Geordi's advice when they first launched, that perhaps Data had had trouble making friends on his earlier assignments because he didn't allow his colleagues to prattle on about themselves. "It doesn't matter that you know everything in their files," Geordi had counseled. "Humans love to talk about themselves. Just let them."

Data decided to try his technique on Tasha. Despite her protestations to the contrary, she still gave him that searching look, even several days later. Data thought that there could be no harm in making the attempt.

"Tasha," he asked at an appropriate moment, alone with her in her quarters one evening. "When is your birthday?"

To his surprise, she looked completely uneasy, as if she'd been caught in a lie. "Oh, Data, how'd you know?"

It was his turn to look consternated. "Know what?"

She let out a puff of air. "I chose a date at random for my file. I have no idea. Well, I mean, I have a general idea, but I'm not sure."

It was not at all the conversation Data expected to have. Tasha was a constant source of surprises. "Please explain."

"I was only five when I was abandoned. I don't remember celebrating my birthday. I remember it was sometime in the spring, but I can't be positive about the exact date. I don't trust my memory. It's not as if I could walk up to the city clerk and ask someone to pull up my birth certificate."

"I see."

"I know for sure the year I was born, but I just don't have any strong feelings about the day when I'm definitely a year older. I can't really put my finger on a stardate and say, hey, now I'm 28."

"How strange. I, too, have no particular birthday. There is the day I was found by the Tripoli, but that may not have been my first date of activation. Lore knew me. He seemed to know me as if we had both been active at the same time. And the memory fragments I recovered upon seeing Dr. Soong's lab . . . perhaps my memory cells were wiped clean at some point. Who knows when my first date of activation might have been?"

The look of unease fell from Tasha's face. She half-smiled. "That's something else we have in common."

Data grunted in agreement. "We have much in common."

"We don't know our own birthdays! And you have a brother that no one –"

Data watched as the color drained completely from Tasha's face. He was confused by her reaction to her own words, but any discussion of Lore seemed to unsettle his friends.

Tasha recovered quickly. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't bring him up. You're nothing like Lore, you know. Nothing at all."

"There is no need to apologize. It was I who first mentioned Lore."

"Well, anyway, do you want a birthday? We could make one up for you."

"That would be unnecessary. What about you? Do you wish to celebrate your birthday?"

"No," Tasha said firmly.

"Understood."

Inwardly, Tasha was kicking herself. She'd almost blurted out a secret that no one needed to know, not even Data. They both had siblings whose existence was best forgotten.

The next day, Tasha arrived at Data's door after their bridge shift had ended, as he'd asked. She entered to find the lights in his quarters dimmed. Data stood in the center of the main room, holding a cupcake on a saucer with a single lit candle poking out of the pink frosting.

The android looked so serious that Tasha giggled. "Hey, what gives? I thought I said no celebrations. And today is definitely not my birthday."

Data came over to her, the saucer balanced unfailingly on his fingertips. "This is not a birthday cake. It is an un-birthday cake."

"A what?"

"A novel concept invented by Lewis Carroll, the pseudonym of a nineteenth century Earth author. Every person has 364 un-birthdays, 365 in a leap year, so the chances are that today is one of yours."

Tasha giggled again. "What's with the candle? Won't the fire suppressant go off?"

"The flame is too small. The candle is an ancient Earth tradition. You are to make a wish and blow it out, and then your wish will come true."

Tasha's heart melted. Trust Data to thoroughly research his cute gestures. "Well, today's probably your un-birthday, too. We should both make a wish and blow out the candle."

He nodded his acceptance.

"On three . . . one, two . . ."

They both puckered up and blew, and the little flame flickered out.


End file.
